the gift

they want you to take
your shoes off
before entering the house.
three dogs,
two cats and a white rabbit roam freely.
you sit at the bottom
of their stairs
and untie your shoes.
your clean shoes.
your new shoes.
you set them in the row
next to their shoes.
they stare at your socks
and look at one another
before saying as one,
come in.
it's okay to come in now.
the rug is old,
the color of oatmeal
sprinkled with brown sugar.
strands of it dangle
in the air like weeds.
you are confused,
but accepting of crazy people.
it's a gift you have.